


Gentler Suns

by 4eeldrive



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Afterlife, Dialogue Heavy, Dream Bubbles, F/F, Feelings Jams, Growing Up, Ladystuck, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pale-Red Vacillation, Quadrant Vacillation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5568691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4eeldrive/pseuds/4eeldrive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porrim and Latula chill in the afterlife, figuring out how to lean on each other again after failed romance, weird multiplicity, and lots of self-doubt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentler Suns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theskyshouldbeviolet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskyshouldbeviolet/gifts).



Traversing the dream bubbles was a hazardous endeavor. The shifting realities and physicalness of the bubbles themselves could be a bummer, but Latula Pyrope was more wary of the dreaming dead.

All the different versions of her various friends, acquaintances, and enemies were so hard to keep track of. Even friend, acquaintance, and enemy were unclear statuses in the afterlife. Sometimes she’d run into Rufioh’s that another version of her had fought with, still holding a grudge. Palpable Cronuses, relative to the thousands of other Cronuses. Tons of Mituna’s who had all sorts of feelings for all sorts of different versions of her - pitch, pale, red, outright platonic, and outright enmity. The rare early-death Damara who was more timid than abrasive. And that wasn’t even counting all the possible iterations of the dancestors.

But Porrim Maryam was always a sight for rad-spectacled eyes.

The worst that had ever happened between Latula and a Porrim in the afterlife was a curt, but apologetic conversation with a Porrim caught up in a particularly bad memory. That had been understandable to Latula, and nothing to do with some sort of gaffe committed by another version of her, or a fight that a slightly different version of a tealblood had had with a slightly different version of a jadeblood.

The dream bubbles were confusing but all Porrims were essentially a constant. Latula could always strike up a friendly conversation, regardless of the timeline the Porrim had come from. Right now though, Latula wanted to talk to her Porrim.

They’d died in short succession in their own timeline, and for some reason that meant that their bubbles had clustered near to one another’s. Mituna’s was close by too, and Meulin’s a little farther off. That didn’t mean anything though, other than an original closeness, with the way the bubbles shifted, and the way their inhabitants traveled. Latula made an effort to return to her original dream bubble semi-frequently, just in case her friends from her specific timeline missed her the same way she missed them.

She was currently trying to make her way back, roaming through memories of home deserts and oceans, and game lands. 

And the occasional alien landscape - the grass was the weirdest part of this particular memory. No itchy burrs or knifelike serrations. She could walk through it just fine. It wasn't blue, or an off-red, just a kind of drying yellow-green. It went on forever, and Latula wondered if the alien the memory belonged to had ever really been in such an ocean of grass, or if a small area of grass had left such an impression on the rememberer that the dream bubble memory had stretched it out and repeated it. Whatever the case, Latula was getting bored of the simple memory, with its gentle breeze and vast nothingness. She wished it was more of a small bay, rather than an ocean, or that it had anything of note other than two distant poles rising out of the flat expanse. She couldn’t even skateboard through it, the grass would just clog up her wheels. Instead she hoisted it above her head, mainly to give her arms something to do.

The grass near the distant poles and their small concrete lake rustled, and someone stood up, yawning and stretching. The asymmetry of the horns was a dead give-away, if the tattoos and fangs weren't already enough.

“Porrim!” Latula jumped up and down and waved, like Porrim wouldn’t catch sight of her, the only thing that wasn’t grass. Porrim flashed her a smile, and waved lazily back.

Latula ran up to hug her, dropping her board in the grass. The tattoos looked like the ones Latula remembered her Porrim sporting, but it was hard to tell sometimes. She was pretty sure though, that mother grub skull and the specific constellation surrounding it was familiar. She’d met other Porrims with similar tattoos, but something in those timelines had caused them all to pick different sets of stars. Latula ran her fingers across the constellation as she hugged Porrim.

“Hi, honey.” Porrim cooed. Latula was positive it was her specific Porrim.

“Is this your memory, Porrim? This doesn’t look like anywhere on Beforus that I remember.”

Porrim glanced around, as if she herself wasn’t entirely sure whether it was hers or not.

“I think it is a human memory. Dave’s, I believe? Some version of some Dave. Maybe Rose? Did Rose ever go outside?”

Latula thought that was a weird question to ask of anyone, even an alien, but her like, one interaction with a Rose didn’t shed any light on whether the human had gone outside in her life.

“Their sun was super wimpy.” Latula hoped her glasses hid how much she was actually squinting in the light.

“I like it. It’s gentle.” Porrim tilted her face upwards, basking. Latula took a minute to look around. Still just an ocean of grass, whichever human’s it had been had clearly vacated the area.. Grass forever and a flat concrete rectangle with the metal poles Latula had seen on either end, limp nets hanging from the boards at their top.

Porrim had tilted her head away from the sun to look back at Latula. She saw her puzzling over the human installation.

“I have no idea what that is, to be honest.”

Latula thought back on her interactions with dead and alive Dave's and the one weird interaction with Rose for some sort of explanation.

“I think it's a sports thing?” She ventured. Rose sure had said some words at her.

Porrim frowned, watching the nets swaying slightly in the breeze, trying to figure out their function. “I’m fairly certain the humans are just telling us non-sense half the time. Maybe more for Rose.”

“What, you mean you aren’t telling them blatant lies? I thought we were all mutually lying to each other in the spirit of ghost-alien contact.”

Porrim snorted, turning her head away from the concrete court to look more directly at Latula.

“You know, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too! I keep talking to Porrim after Porrim, and they’re all nice, but they weren’t you, y’know?”

Porrim smiled and nodded. “Yeah. The dream bubbles are so weird, honestly. I feel like I’ve seen a version of you every day, not like there are even days anymore, but it hasn’t been you each time.”

“We should catch up, bud!” Porrim hated being called bud, so of course Latula had to call her that, for old time’s sake. It won her a small sigh, as Porrim slowly sank to a sitting position next to the pavement. The grass rose up around her immediately, swallowing her up, just the tips of her horns poking out. Latula sat down too, and parted the grass to look at Porrim again.

Porrim had set to work on a more permanent solution, meticulously bending down the grass between them so that they could talk face to face.

“Porrim that's going to take forever.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to sit on the pavement, there’s gum on it, and I can’t tell if this was a good memory - it smells oppressively of tar.”

“I got a better idea.” Latula flipped herself around and laid back, letting her head rest in Porrim’s lap, careful so her horns didn’t jab Porrim in the hips.

Porrim fussed with Latula's hair, sighing as the other woman settled against her. The two sat in silence for a while, watching the clouds pass overhead, the same shapes repeating in the memory. Latula started to get antsy, kicking her feet and spinning the wheels on her overturned skateboard. Finally, she broke the silence, with the first thought that had sailed into her head.

“Porrim what did you even like to do before the game?” Shit that had sounded weird and rude. But damn if she hadn’t had eons of fake-death time to figure out what Porrim Maryam’s hobbies and interests were. “I mean I know what you like now - nice clothes, and ladies, and tattoos, and knitting sometimes, and uhhh, I just meant y'know before the game.”

Porrim’s lips had quirked up into a smile, catching on her fangs a little bit in a way that was quite nice.

“Shit, Merrygamz, I’m sorry. I can’t believe we dated and I can’t list more than four things you like.” Latula felt something bitter hit the back of her throat, but not quite. More the back of her throat-brain-heart.

But Porrim just smiled, a little sadly. “That is part of why we stopped dating. I was also dismissive of your interests and could have been kinder towards you.”

“No worries Porrim, I forgave you a while ago.”

“I did the same.”

“And not to like, make excuses, but there was so much shit going on. Dumb teenagers trying to do relationships on top of everything else was just a disaster.”

“Oh, of course. Who has time for dating when all your friends are dying and being traumatized.”

Porrim and Latula sat in silence. Porrim finally broke it.

“I did not mean that sarcastically or cruelly, but I think it was a cruel thing to have said, nonetheless.”

Latula shrugged in response, her shoulders pushing up against Porrim's knees.

“Anyways,” Porrim tried to restart their conversation, move them into calmer waters. “I used to box before,” Porrim waved vaguely at their surroundings, “y’know, everything.” Explained a lot; her one eye that was always kind of closed, the mushed up nose that must have been broken and re-broken so many times, how battered and ragged the long tips of her ears were. Latula had always assumed she’d gotten that from going out and punching cholerbears or something in the face. She supposed that was still a possibility. One of the alien kids had described some type of earth fighting sport to her once, for lack of a better topic as her dream bubble had passed through their reality, and it had sounded laughably tame. She wondered what Alternian boxing was like in comparison.

“Damn, that’s hardcore.”

Porrim merely shrugged. “I guess. Thanks though.”

“I wonder if every paradox-Porrim was a boxer? Or d’you think there was like one who was just a hard-core knitter? Like hard-core hard-core? Or like, oh man, d’you think you boxed as The Dolorosa? Like was she out there just punching Imperial troops straight in the face?”

Porrim’s laugh at the thought cut out halfway through, becoming a weird strangled sound. Her good eye had gone wide, like she’d seen a ghost. A ghost seeing a paradox-ghost.

“Sorry.” Latula lowered her voice from its previously excited volume. “I know it's, weird, to talk about them. Or us. She was you though, so even if she wasn’t a boxer she was still kickass. On top of the whole Mother of the Signless thing, I mean.”

Porrim had wrapped her arms around herself, bringing her knees up to her chest so that Latula was left with her head resting on the ground, grass tickling her ears. It was a defensive huddled posture that Latula thought was so out of character for Porrim.

“Hey, Porrim...”

“I don’t see myself in her at all.” Porrim cut Latula off before she could cut her off again. “I mean sometimes in broad strokes, yeah, maybe. And I know that literally she was me, just a different version. But such a different version! I don’t think I could ever grow into being her.”

“Nah, what? What are you talking about, Maryam? You’re brave and kind and always pull for other people.”

“I think we wouldn’t all have died, if that were as true as you think it is.”

“Nu-uh. You can’t like, blame yourself for stuff that's out of your control, or the way other people just are sometimes. Like Meenah’s...everything. And whatever is up with Kurloz. because something is definitely up with Kurloz.”

“I don’t know, maybe if I really had cared, like if I’d talked to Damara, or Kurloz, or Meenah, like really talked. It just...I just.” Porrim sighed.

“Psh whatever,” Latula waved her hands in exasperation. “We all could have done things differently.” She took a minute to quite herself down, not wanting to turn things into an argument. “Anyways, I think you try harder than anyone else to be like, kind. And junk. That’s what The Dolorosa did.”

Porrim rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a little bit. “Ah, yes, all that junk The Dolorosa did.”

“Along with punching some Imperial threshecutioner assholes, probs.”

That got a real, full smile from Porrim. Latula loved it, and decided to keep things going. “Like, damn, all the Maryams are out here, across every timeline, destroying me with their strong, well muscled arms.” Porrim’s smile became a smirk, and she flexed a little bit.

“Ohhh!” Latula exclaimed, pretending to swoon, pressing the back of her hand to the forehead.

Porrim relaxed, lowering her knees away from her chest. She Pulled Latula back into her lap, but didn't go back to playing with her hair like Latula had hoped. Instead, she twiddled her fingers, a habit that Latula had always noticed but never been able to figure out - was Porrim nervous all the time or just bored? Latula was always kicking her feet when nothing was happening, just to be doing something, but Porrim seemed better with silence and calm overall, except for those twitchy fingers.

“You’ve lived up to your ancestor, though, certainly.”

“Porrim, what? What are you even saying?”

“I’ve always thought you were brave, and full of conviction, which I think Redglare would have been proud of.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never really felt a resemblance. Not like in a bad way, just she’s not me in any way. Or I’m not her, I guess? Whatever, I’m definitely cooler than she was. I can do more skateboard tricks.”

Latula laid her head back down in Porrim’s lap, still hoping Porrim would run her fingers through her hair again. She still didn’t, and Latula chewed at her lower lip, debating whether to say the thoughts she was having.

“It’s more my dancestor I feel I can’t measure up to.” She said the words quietly, almost hoping Porrim somehow wouldn't hear.

“Really? How are you figuring that one, Latula?”

“She’s just so brave, and so strong, and she’s kept going. I’m all dead.”

“There are lots of dead dancestors too.”

“I know, but I think if I’d been on Terezi’s level, maybe, I don’t know, there would be fewer dead around.”

“Oh, then we wouldn’t have had this nice chat.”

“If I’d been a better knight we both could have been alive to to have this chat, Porrim, obviously.” Latula was so angry for a moment, before she calmed herself. Porrim was just talking, just trying to help.

Porrim made a small trilling sound in the back of her throat, stalling to give herself time to put her words together. The sound started out high and light in her throat, but rumbled down deep in her thorax until Latula could feel the buzzing of it in her skull, still resting her head against Porrim’s thigh.

“I think that both you, and Terezi, are very strong and brave, and in different ways, and that maybe you both look up to each other and see the other as a faultless version of yourself.” Porrim trilled again. “Which is silly, really, you’re both different people, we’re all different people, even if paradox space is playing some cruel trick on us, laying self esteem traps in the guise of people who look like us but are their own person apart from us.” Porrim finally ran her fingers through Latula's hair again.

“You deserved better. Terezi did too. We all deserved better. Gentler suns than the ones that looked down on us.” Porrim rubbed the base of Latula’s horn absentmindedly, staring at the empty nets high above them. Her voice had gotten high and distant, her words starting to trail off.

She cleared her throat, huffed, and her voice was back in its regular low register when she spoke again.

“Anyways, you’re my favorite knight. I think you’re harder on yourself than anyone else is, and unfairly. You’re very,” Porrim stalled “admirable.”

Crying in front of her ex seemed like a very un-radical thing to do but latula was edging close to doing just that.

“Hm, maybe admirable isn’t the right word, it doesn’t have the weight of what you mean to me behind it. Maybe I’ll find the right word eventually, Latula. I guess we have forever to wait for me to get my thoughts in order.”

Latula blinked rapidly, trying to clear out the beginning of her tears before they really started, before Porrim could see them. Too late though, of course Porrim had seen.

She smiled at Latula, a small, lopsided smile, and tracing her hands lower down on Latula's face, her battered knuckles coming to rest on her forehead. “Would it be alright if I?”

Latula immediately pressed her head into Porrim’s hands, letting her run her hands further down her face, not even letting her finish her question. Of course it would be alright if she.

Latula let Porrim stroker her face, the gentlest pale feelings starting to crowd out her bad thoughts. And then she was remembering all the dates they’d had, and how bad they’d been at being flushed, children aping adults who’d all gone extinct. The clouds above them started to shift with all of Latula’s remembering, and she pushed those memories away, to stay here, now. Mostly pale feelings and mostly none of that baggage from before.

Like, maybe she still wanted to kiss Porrim a little in a way that was not a moirail way. But the other kind of flutter-stomach feels, the pale kind, the pap you on the face kind were almost too much to bear on their own right now - latula couldn't start doubling up like that. Porrim’s hands still rested on Latula's forehead, and Latula still rested her head against Porrim’s legs. The sky had gone dim yellow, and everything was still. And red rom wasn’t what Latula needed what right now.

What did Porrim need right now?

“Hey, Porrim?” Porrim glanced back to Latula. She’d been idly watching the wheels of Latula’s overturned skateboard spin. She gave a noncommittal hmmm.

“What do you need right now?” There was so much earnestness in her own voice that it startled Latula a little. More earnestness than she’d been able to muster up for anyone in years of dead dream bubble space. Even for Mituna or herself. It was too earnest, hanging heavy in the air. She’d gone and killed it, whatever nice moment, nice future change she and Porrim had briefly shared.

“What do I need?” The question fell oddly from Porrim’s lips, like she wasn’t quite sure what the words all meant strung together like that. “I need you to…” Porrim’s voice had deepened even more than usual, and god, Latula would die again, become a double-ghost if she’d made Porrim cry. But Porrim blinked rapidly, opened and closed her mouth, and recovered. “I need you to do some more sick kick flips.”

“Hell yeah!” Latula yelled, grateful for the out, feeling bravado push out whatever jumbled feelings had just been rattling around her blood-pumper.

Latula rolled off Porrim and grabbed her board, heading out onto the concrete court. Briefly, she thought about flexing, striking up a radical pose, but then glanced at Porrim’s arms and thought she should save herself the embarrassment. Instead, she readied for the perfect 3 flip, it was going to be so cool, Porrim would be so impressed, they’d probably high-five afterwards. It would be great.

Latula Pyrope fell right on her face.

She heard Porrim gasp, and the whoosh of her dress as the other woman immediately got up to come over to help. She wasn’t hurt, but the air had been knocked out of her lungs, as well as all her prior bravado. Maybe she’d just lie here, and eventually double-die.

“Oh no,” she groaned, as she felt Porrim gently lay a hand on her back.

“Oh noooo,” Porrim cooed back.

Kneeling, Latula looked at her palms. If she had still been alive, she would have scraped up the palms of her hands. They would have been bleeding, slowly leaking teal, and Latula would have hoped that Porrim would take her hands and kiss her bleeding palms. Latula would have probably felt something weird at the sight of her blood on the rainbow drinker's lips, but it would have been an okay kind of weird feeling. But they were both dead, and there was no blood, no weird feelings, and no kiss. Instead, Porrim took Latula’s hands, and helped pull her to her feet.

“I’ve seen you do that trick before.” Porrim paused, thinking. “Or I’ve seen you do a trick with a similar wind up to that? Anyway, I know you can do that trick.”

“Thanks, Porrim.” Porrim hadn’t let go of her hands, and years and years ago the closeness might have made Latula nervous, but now it was a good closeness. She didn’t need the nearness to mean anything else than what it was.

“Porrim, d’you remember that one time I promised to teach you how to skateboard?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh well, I promised, and then never delivered.” Latula set her skateboard back down on the ground, wheels still, and offered a hand to Porrim.

The Afterlife wasn’t so bad. Still and expansive. Just the two of them, a skateboard, and a quiet, strange alien memory.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anything about skateboarding.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (also semi-awkwardly snuck in a Porrim headcanon since we were given almost nothing to go on for these beautiful train-wreck kids)


End file.
